


Vanilla

by sweet_poeia



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Community: kradam_kiss, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_poeia/pseuds/sweet_poeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris was used to it. The knowing looks, the thinly veiled questions and jokes. And yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starchild7](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Starchild7).



> Inspired by the following conversation at Kradamadness: Moirariordan commented, "It's an established fandom 'fact' (I say 'fact' because it was said in an interview and well let's not get into the whole discussion on subjective truth when it comes to celebrities and public image) that Adam is actually super vanilla in bed. Jerakeen replied, "It's kind of hilarious how no one takes him seriously when he says that." Then I wrote this. Beta by Susysunflower.

Kris was used to it. The knowing looks, the thinly veiled questions and jokes. And yet.

The subtext was, how are you still standing? How can such a small, plaid person withstand the force of being loved by Adam Lambert? Every interview, countless fan encounters, constant tweets. Even his friends, Charles especially, couldn't help trying to wheedle out a few details. Even Katy, for Pete's sake. They should know better. Kris would never tell. Mostly he just blushed a little and then changed the subject.

Even worse was the occasional insinuation that maybe the likes of little Kris Allen from Arkansas wasn't up to the challenge. That he was a rodeo clown who got a shot at the bucking bronco, and through some miracle he stayed on for a minute, but he was bound to be torn to smithereens before the show was over. And to be honest, some of them seemed to be looking forward to that a little bit.

Well.

Maybe it was kind of like that at first. Even before they were together together, back when they were just roommates and friends, being around Adam was sort of thrilling. Those eyes, the way that even in a crowd he looked at you as though no one else was in the room, as though what you had to say was...important. And after that, when Kris began to realize that what he was feeling for Adam went far beyond friendship, far beyond even a fanboy/rockgod-in-the-making crush...well yeah, it was pretty eye-opening. But there were never any smoldering looks behind closed doors, no innuendos, no pseudo-drunken invitations or surprise visits in the shower. Well, only in Kris's fantasies. He had basically gone through puberty that year. About ten years late. While appearing on the world's biggest televised singing competition and then travelling around the country in a sardine tin with ten guys and the object of his affection. Kris thought more than once that God must have one hell of a sense of humor.

Kris spent those months jerking off in the shower, listening to Adam breathe at night, and trying to think of very old nuns whenever Adam sang "Whole Lotta Love." Adam spent them lurking nonchalantly backstage during Kris's set and leaving the dressing room when Kris changed. After the last show, Adam tried to smile while he brushed the silly string off the tour jacket (so big and roomy and smelling of cupcakes). But Adam's hands trembled, and his smile faltered, and before he could even think about what he was doing Kris went up on his tiptoes to press his lips against Adam's, as if to say here, just rest here for a while, it's all right. Before their lips could touch, Adam caught Kris's face in his warm hands.

"No, Kris. No." His voice was barely a whisper. He was gone in an instant, and Kris was left alone in the dressing room, gazing at his reflection in the oversized leather jacket.

That was the night he told Katy.

After the months of tears and prayer and lawyers and paparazzi, he went to Adam. Adam's arms were open, and he said, "Yes, Kris. Yes."

 

Being loved by Adam was like being endlessly buoyant in a calm, warm ocean. There was no danger of going under, and the creatures that swam by, though sometimes strange and exotic, were all pretty friendly and interesting.

The sex was...well, kind of like that too, at first. Only the waves were a lot higher, so you had to hang on to a raft, and you'd had a few beers and were feeling really mellow and tingly. Which was not what Kris had expected. At all. He had, after all, seen Adam on stage. Plus he'd done some research, even clicked on some of the fanfiction links in the tweets. Come on, who wouldn't be curious about that? So when they finally progressed beyond kissing (which took a while, seriously, Adam loved kissing, he could do it forever), Kris figured he was in for a rough ride, so to speak. Instead, it was smooth, slow, sensual, reverent. Adam played Kris like Kris played his guitar, like he was born to do it, and he wrung from Kris the most exquisite music. It was awesome.

There wasn't any actual fucking for the longest time. "Gay sex doesn't center around penetration, you know. Lots of gay couples don't even do it. I know a million different ways to love you with my mouth and hands." Adam grinned mischievously, but he grew serious when it became apparent that Kris wasn't going to let the subject drop. "Baby, this is all really new for you. I don't want to do anything until you're absolutely sure. The last thing in the world I want is to hurt you."

Because yeah, Adam was huge. That was the elephant in the room.

Adam had been distraught when Kris sprained his jaw.

It took every bit of Kris's considerable powers of persuasion to get Adam inside him, and Adam spent an hour and an entire bottle of lube prepping Kris. When at last Adam was rocking into him, Kris was almost insane with need, and he threw back his head and laughed and moaned and said, "We are never going to stop doing this." Adam didn't argue.

However, there were no blindfolds or feathers. No cock rings or vibrators. No being slammed against a wall or blown in the back of a limo. And although Adam loved to talk during sex, it was usually along the lines of how beautiful every inch of Kris was and how much he loved him, and that hardly qualified as dirty talk, even in Kris's admittedly limited experience.

And Kris loved it. Truly, honestly loved it. Being in Adam's bed, in Adam's arms, was heaven on Earth for him. Still, Barbara Walters' comment was the last straw.

"Would you like a power bar or a Red Bull? Perhaps a cushion?" she offered discreetly before the cameras rolled. "I know Adam's in town. You must be worn out, poor dear."

When Kris got home from the interview, Adam had just gotten in from a photo shoot with Lee. His hair was sculpted and he was wearing full make up. He had changed into his street clothes--skinny jeans and python boots. From his belt loop dangled a pair of gold handcuffs. He pulled Kris in for a long, warm hug, and Kris's hand found the cuffs.

"Are these...have these always been just for show?" He hated himself for asking.

Adam cocked his head and laughed. "Um. Yes?" He studied Kris for a moment. "Were you hoping otherwise?"

"No. I don't know. It's just...I mean, everybody seems to think we must be swinging from the chandeliers in here, you know? And...I don't know, maybe that's what you would be doing. If you weren't with me..." Kris trailed off.

Adam was still. Kris continued, "I just want you to know that I'm up for anything. That you want. We don't have to always be..."

"Vanilla?" Adam supplied.

Kris shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Oh hey, no, wait--" because Adam had that look in his eyes. That chubby ginger teenager look, and that was not OK. "I didn't mean--"

"You know what, I don't know how this is..." He faltered, then continued. "I've lost count of how many times I've said in interviews that I'm not the character you see on stage. That I'm just a guy. That I'm, yes, vanilla. And nobody ever seems to hear that, which is fine, I guess, and I can see why people would rather think otherwise. But you. I thought you...I thought you heard." He put out a hand to silence Kris's protest. "I'm gonna take a shower. We can talk later if you want." As he headed for the bathroom, he threw over his shoulder, "I'm sorry if I disappointed you."

Kris stood outside the bathroom door for a long time. He listened to the familiar sounds of Adam removing his makeup, the clicks and snaps of various bottle lids opening and closing. He could easily picture Adam leaning over the sink, breath fogging the mirror as he peeled off the eyelashes, ran the cotton ball over his skin.

When he heard the water running in the shower, Kris padded to the music room and the comfort of his guitar. He longed to hold Adam instead, but Kris knew him well enough to know it was better to wait, even if Kris's chest felt tight and heavy.

After a while, the water stopped. The bathroom door opened. Kris's hands stilled on the instrument, and he waited, listening for the sound of the bedroom door closing. It didn't, so Kris took his cue, put down his guitar, and went into the bedroom.

Adam was lying face down on the bed. He was wearing a pair of soft gray sweatpants, and his hair was damp, curling a little at the nape of his neck. Kris pulled off his t-shirt and climbed onto the bed, draping himself across Adam's body, settling in to fit in all the familiar nooks and crannies. He loved doing this, loved feeling Adam underneath him, warm and strong and his. Adam had teased him about it in the beginning, called him a baby swan. But Kris always said it made him feel like he was being reenergized, kind of like his iphone on the charging pad.  
Kris rested his cheek on Adam's shoulder, and from this angle he could see a few droplets of water clinging to Adam's back. He rubbed them in, then moved his hand to caress Adam's cheek, the skin pale and fragile and lightly scarred.

He opened his mouth to say he was sorry, but what came out was, "My mama always makes sugar cookies for Christmas."

Adam waited.

"The kind you roll out and cut into shapes? And she always said what made them so special was the vanilla. It couldn't be just any vanilla. It was the really good stuff, the expensive kind from Madagascar. She used to hide it because Daniel would pour it in his cereal." Adam allowed a tiny smile. "She said vanilla beans come from orchids that just grow in a few places, and they have to be hand pollinated, so that's why it's so precious." He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Adam's neck. "Precious," he repeated.

"It was the most amazing smell," Kris continued, breath ghosting over Adam's neck and making chill bumps appear on his skin. "Pure, and delicate, and a little spicy. And I could never, never get enough of it."

"Mmmm." Adam was smiling in earnest now, and he moved to kiss the palm of Kris's hand, still resting on his cheek.

"You could never disappoint me. Please believe that. You're..." Kris's voice broke. "I don't have any words that can tell you what it means to me, being with you."

Adam moved and turned over, sliding Kris from his back and readjusting so that Kris was nestled in his arms. In his clear blue eyes, Kris saw nothing but love.

"I believe you," he soothed. Adam kissed his lips tenderly, then moved to nip his earlobe before whispering, "Kristopher?"

"Yeah?" Kris arched his neck, and Adam buried his smile there when he felt the shiver rush through Kris's body.

"Talk vanilla to me some more."


End file.
